


A Bird in Hand or Two Talons in a Bush

by AlisonSky



Series: Lone Hawk of Gotham [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), New Teen Titans, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Bisexual Clint Barton, Circus Bros - Freeform, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Barton is a Talon, Confused Jason Todd, Court of Owls, Dick Grayson is Ric Grayson, Everyone Gets Beaten Up, Everyone Needs Band-Aids, F/M, Forced Relationship, Grooming, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt No Comfort, Hypnotism, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Let's Get Ready to Rumble, M/M, Protective Damian Wayne, Talon - Freeform, Tim Drake is So Done, fake memories, jason Todd is a good bro, no beta we die like robins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29447334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlisonSky/pseuds/AlisonSky
Summary: Ever since Ric Grayson emerged after Nightwing was shot in the head, his great grandfather, William Cobb, has been watching him from afar. Ric isn't the only one garnering his attention--he's also got his sights set on Clint Barton.The truth about how Swordsmaster and Trickshot groomed a young Clint in the Circus Bros universe will come out as Ric & Clint separately face the future that the Court of Owls has planned for them.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Batfamily Members, Clint Barton/Jason Todd, Ric Grayson & Clint Barton, Ric Grayson/Bea Bennett
Series: Lone Hawk of Gotham [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664209
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the Next Installment of the "Lone Hawk of Gotham" series, aka the Circus Bros world. There's a few things of importance here to mention before you start.
> 
> First, this story is going to refer to events that take place for Ric/Dick back in his New 52 run, as well as issues 62-68 of the current Rebirth Nightwing run. Additionally, there are references to events from Red Hood & The Outlaws (New 52 and Rebirth), Heroes in Crisis, and the Young Justice cartoon series (all three seasons). If I confuse you at all with any of these event mentions, please let me know in the comments and I'll break it down.
> 
> This chapter is also going to introduce how YJ fits into this world and hints at how Clint fits into it. The next chapter of _Teen Hawk Down_ is going to get into this heavily for their next story arc. Because of course, I'm planning to have Clint have a connection with the team(s). You're going to love what I have planned there.
> 
> Enjoy!

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jason Todd looked up at where Clint Barton was dangling upside-down from a pipe, hammer in hand as he nailed a piece of drywall to the end of a wooden wall.

“Making bedrooms.” Clint grabbed another nail from a magnet stuck to a pipe on one side, nails on the other.

“What, are you and Ric adopting orphans now?” Jason crossed his arms, leaning on the kitchen island, a smirk on his face. “I mean, that’s a big commitment there.”

“Not adopting.” Clint finished connecting the top and slid off the pipe, flipped, and landing on his feet. “But yes, bedrooms for orphans named Jason, Timothy, and a semi-orphan Damian.”

“You’re making us bedrooms? Why?”

“So you have a place to sleep when you guys come to visit.” Clint walked past Jason, nudging him with his elbow before grabbing the empty coffee cup and heading to get a refill.

“Huh, and what does Ric think about it?” Jason asked.

“Ric doesn’t know what he feels,” Ric answered as he entered the living area of the warehouse, leaving the door to the gym open as he headed for the fridge.

“Class over already?” Clint asked.

Ric nodded. “Yeah. I’ve got to shower before I go grab lunch with Bea.”

Jason watched Ric carefully a moment. It had been a few weeks since Alfred’s memorial service at the bar, and Clint knew Jason was unsure of where he stood with his older brother. “But you’re willing to spend time with us now?” Jason asked.

Ric drank half a water bottle before answering. “I’ve been thinking about it. It’ll come down to you guys. If you’re willing to get to know me for who I am now, I think I’d be down for finding a place in the family again.”

Jason grinned, relief and joy in that smile. “I think we can do that. And look, I’m sorry about what I said at the bar…”

“You’ve apologized three times already, Jason,” Ric said. “It was a tense situation, and I get it. We’re square.”

Clint watched them from his spot by the coffee maker, smiling behind the rim of his coffee cup. He was proud of Ric for starting to reach out again. Something happened in Ric’s discussion with Bruce that started healing the wound caused by Bruce’s denial of Ric being his own persona. It was only a matter of time before he reforged his bonds with his brothers and could include them in his new life.

When that happened, though, Clint knew his time in Blüdhaven would be at its end. Fury was getting annoyed at Clint’s prolonged absence from the field. When Ric got his family back, the full family, Clint’s mission to watch over Ric would be completed and he’d return to S.H.I.E.L.D. After that, Clint had no clue when he’d get a break to return to Gotham or the Haven to visit.

A small part of him was tempted to quit. It had been too long since Clint had connected with his circus brother and he really didn’t want to lose that. There was no assurance that if or when Dick returned to the forefront if he’d accept Clint—especially if his Ric memories disappeared. Clint’s heart ached at the idea, but he was a realist and knew that it was possible.

Jason and Ric had moved to inspect the new bedroom area. There were five small bedrooms in the space that used to be the Nightwing training area, as well as a larger bathroom. Because of the industrial nature, the walls were only eight feet tall, leaving the rest of the space between the walls and ceiling to be converted to a loft bed.

That one was Clint’s. Ric called it his nest, but it felt more comfortable being able to stretch out over a foam mattress floor with large pillows and soft blankets. It’d also be a fun space for the brothers to hang out in when Clint was gone.

He pushed the thought to the side as he joined Ric and Jason. Ric turned to face him, his face painted in confusion. “Did you know we have a sister?”

Clint paused in his movement forward. He revealed the secret to Ric about their adoptive brother status, but he still chickened out at telling any of the others. Especially Jason. Who was standing right there. _Shit._

“You guys have a sister?” He manipulated the words, making it seem that he interpreted it as Ric and Jason being the brothers, not Ric and Clint. “Why haven’t I heard about that?”

“She works mostly in Hong Kong these days,” Jason said, clueless to the crisis in Clint’s mind. “You’d like her. Cass didn’t learn how to speak as a kid, so she uses body language and sign to get her point across as she learns to use her words. Good kid, but deadly. You do not want to get on her bad side.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Clint said. “Is that how you learned to sign?”

Jason nodded. “She’s got the same tragic backstory package we have, but deadlier.”

Ric looked at them, then shook his head. “Am I the only one who had a stable family as a kid?” he asked.

“Yes,” Clint and Jason answered simultaneously.

“Awesome.” Ric’s voice was sarcastic, and Clint knew he was almost apologetic in having a normal childhood when around them. “But yeah, I’m gonna…”

Clint motioned with his hand. “Yeah, go shower and see Bea. We’ll be fine here.”

Ric nodded, grabbing his jeans and sweatshirt off the couch and heading for the gym’s bathroom. Clint watched him go, then looked at Jason. “Any other siblings he should know about?”

Jason shrugged. “We have a couple’a strays, but not actually adopted like the rest of us. Steph is Tim’s girlfriend, then there’s Harper, who I’m almost certain is Cass’s girlfriend at this point, and Harper’s brother Cullen. Oh, and Duke’s around, but he tends to work either on his own or with Batman only. Then there’s Kate, Bruce’s cousin, who you probably know as Batwoman, and Luke—Lucius’s son—playing Batwing.”

“Damn. I didn’t realize the Bat Family was that big now.”

“That’s just the inner and middle circles. There’s a lot more on the fringe. Titans, Young Justice League, Teen Titans, I even had a group called the Outlaws.”

Clint narrowed his eyes. “What happened to them?”

“Well, the first group was Starfire and Arsenal. You remember them?”

“I remember Kory. Who’s Arsenal?”

“Roy Harper.”

“Oh yeah, I remember Roy. How’s he doing, anyway?” Clint laughed. “The two of us were always going at it in the training room at Mount Justice, fighting to see who the better archer was.”

Clint noticed that Jason’s face stiffened, and he gulped. “What happened?”

“Kory left Earth, so I don’t know where she is.” Jason rubbed the back of his neck. “Roy… you remember when they realized he was a clone, right?”

“Yeah. They figured the real Roy was dead, but Dick ran the numbers, so I only ever knew the clone Roy anyway.”

“Same. But well… okay, the Roy you knew goes by Will now. He and Cheshire had a kid, but she left so Artemis is helping Will raise her.”

Clint laughed. “Wow, Roy… Will as a dad. That’s gonna be interesting.”

“Anyway, they found the actual Roy, who was in cryostasis. He goes by Arsenal. We got along because of the whole ‘returning from the dead to find out you were replaced’ situation. He pretty much became my best friend.”

This wasn’t going down a good road. Clint took a deep breath. “I never met him. Dick and I were estranged for like, a year before he left Young Justice to form the Teen Titans. That’s how I met Kory.”

Jason nodded ruefully. “Roy had the same addiction problems that Will developed. He was in this superhero rehab place when it was attacked. He died.”

“Fuck.” Clint moved closer to Jason, his hands going to Jason’s shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“It happens in this line of work.” Jason stood taller but didn’t shrug out of Clint’s grasp. “After that, I wasn’t looking for a team, but I ran into Artemis and Bizarro, and we got along like a house on fire. Dick joked that we were the Dark Trinity—a Bat, a Super, and an Amazon working outside the law to make the world better.”

Clint laughed. “You really want to be Batman one day, don’t you?”

“Not really.” Jason thought a moment, then smirked. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“So what happened to them?”

“They disappeared into a portal. Haven’t been able to find them since, which is why I’m a loner these days.”

“Well, you’ve got us, so you really aren’t.” Clint squeezed Jason’s shoulder, then dropped his hands.

“I miss something?” Ric asked as he returned, toweling his damp hair as he made for the couch where his socks and boots waited.

“Just catching up on old friends,” Clint stated, stepping between Ric and Jason to give the latter a chance to recover his emotional state. “I’m probably going to close the gym up and grab some coffee in a bit.”

“I just brought home some coffee,” Ric stated.

“Yeah, and it’s not the stuff Alfred left for me. What you got was grounded dirt.”

Jason snorted behind him. “Want me to text Tim and find out what Alfred used to get? That kid lives off coffee, so he’ll know.”

“God yes, please.”

“Fine. I’ll take the coffee back to Bea and tell her what you think of it.” Ric finished tying his boots and stood up.

“Um, no?” Clint gulped, not wanting to incur Bea’s wrath. “It’s fine.”

“No, if you really can’t stand it…”

“I can drink it. We’re good.”

Ric smirked, then took his wallet, phone, and keys off the couch and put them in various pockets. “Don’t wait up,” he told Clint as he left through the back door where their motorcycles were parked.

Jason watched in amusement. “On a scale of Kory to Barbara…”

“Bea would win. Hands down.” Clint motioned for the gym. “Come on, help me close up so we can get out of here.”

“I’d join you for coffee, but I’ve got a drug bust to take down tonight and should get some sleep before sunset.” Jason pulled down the gate from the gym door and locked it. “If you’re up late, though, we could grab an early breakfast?”

“I think I can do that.”

When the gym was closed and Clint had his jacket on, they headed for the back door. Before they exited, Clint snuck his hand out to grab Jason’s arm, then pulled him back into a hug. “I’m sorry about Roy.”

Jason was stiff for a second before he wrapped his arms around Clint’s shoulders and lowered his head to press their foreheads together. They were still figuring this out, and Jason didn’t want the others to know yet that they had something going on. Ric knew, but he respected their privacy the same as Clint respected his and Bea’s private times.

Jason closed his eyes and relaxed against Clint, letting the frustration fade from his shoulders and spine. Clint let his fingers trace circles on the taller man’s back, providing comfort as Jason let himself grieve a moment.

“I still don’t understand what this is,” Jason whispered, “but right now, I’m grateful for it.”

“Same.” Clint dared to tip his head up, seeking out Jason’s lips with his own. The kiss was brief, not intended to lead beyond a quick exchange of affection, and then Jason pulled back. He looked tired, but not world-weary.

“We should go,” Jason said, and even his voice was exhausted. Clint nodded, and as Jason opened the door, Clint made to move through but stopped. “What is it?” Jason asked.

Clint looked around the room, unsure about what he was feeling. He looked at each window, then the skylights above them. “I don’t know. For a moment, I felt like I was being watched.”

“Do you want me to do a perimeter check?”

“No, but I’m going to turn the alarm on, just in case someone’s scouting the place for a break-in.” Clint opened the ordinary-looking security panel and typed in the code for the Batcave level of protection. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Make sure you let Ric know it’s set,” Jason said as he straddled his bike.

“Will do.” Clint slipped his hands into his jacket. “You know, I think I’ll walk. See you later?”

“Probably.” Jason lowered his motorcycle helmet visor and sped off toward Gotham. Clint watched him until he turned a corner before starting the walk to the coffeehouse…

… completely unaware of the person standing on the warehouse roof wearing a black uniform with gold trim, a pair of gold goggles, and talons for fingernails.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William Cobb, aka Talon, makes his first move -- acquiring his Hawk Owl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this chapter can be a bit hard to read. It is very much a fight scene between two assassins who aren't pulling punches. There's only one really gross moment, but it is over in two sentences.
> 
> Also, because it's a cool fact I didn't know - there is an owl called a Northern Hawk Owl. And since Clint does get called "the Hawk" instead of his full name by people, it felt it was a fitting name for the Court to bestow on him. Do they know how fitting? Lips are sealed.

Clint wasn’t paying attention when he walked out of the coffee house, which is how he ran straight into the man just opening the door. His cup went flying out, splashing against the man’s chest. “Aw, coffee, no,” Clint whined as he looked down at the spilled deliciousness on the ground.

The man in the doorway was brushing the mess off his shirt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were distracted.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about this. Let me…” Clint looked up and in a second realized he knew the victim of his clumsiness. “Mr. Cobb. Wow, I’m really sorry. Here, come in. I’ll go grab some paper towels—”

“I don’t think paper towels are going to cut it, Clint.” He continued to wipe away the whipped crème and chocolate curls. “I’m going to need a new shirt. I was on my way to make an offer of employment to a recruit.”

“Crap, you can’t go like that. How far is your place? I’ll pay for the dry cleaning…”

“It’s okay, son.” Cobb took a moment to look at his watch. “I think the gym is on my way there. Maybe I could borrow one of yours? We’re about the same size.”

Clint nodded. “Sure, let’s do that. I can come back and get another coffee later.”

They hurry out of the café and head to the gym. It’s a short walk, and as Clint pulled up the grate and enters the gym, the sun is just starting to set. “Wait here, I’ll go grab the shirt. You can clean up in the bathroom.”

Clint rushed into the living side of the building, leaving the door between it and the gym open. He looked through his things, currently in the room he was building for Jason, and found the white shirt he had worn to the funeral.

“Do you need a tie as well?” Clint asked as he closed the bedroom door.

The power cutting out was his only reply.

Instantly on alert, Clint pressed himself against the nearest wall. His eyes adjusted quickly to the darkened room, only lit by what remained of the sunlight through the windows. A sweep of the room told him two major details: the door between the two spaces had been shut, and from the soft padding of leather soles on concrete, he wasn’t alone.

“Cobb, are you okay?” he shouted out, inching back to the bedroom door and opening it just enough to reach in for his bow and quiver. No answer. He slung the quiver on and notched a regular arrow into place. “William?”

The rush of wind was Clint’s only warning, but it was all he needed. He brought the arrow up and aimed along the sound’s path, letting it fly at the end. There was no impact—not against flesh, bone, brick, or metal.

“Your aim is most impressive, Mr. Barton.”

He could make out the vocal tones of William Cobb’s in the voice, but the speech pattern had changed. His gut was telling Clint to get the fuck out of there, but this was his home and he wasn’t going to be chased away.

“What do you want from me?” Clint growled, another arrow, this time an explosive one, ready and waiting.

“It’s not what I want, Clinton. It is was I am here to give you.”

Clint laughed. “What’s that? Starring role in a C-list horror movie?”

“I am bringing back to you the destiny you were robbed of.”

The words were right in Clint’s ear. _How did he get there?!_ Clint turned and ducked, bringing his bow around to where Cobb had been, but Clint saw nothing but blank space where Cobb had been standing.

The next second, his vision went white as he felt a strong kick along his ribs, breaking at least one. He rolled away, but Cobb followed and took another kick, this time toward Clint’s shoulder. Seeing it coming this time, Clint grabbed Cobb’s foot before it could connect, twisting it until he heard the bone break, then pushed the man away.

 _He knows my moves_ , Clint growled to himself. He gave Cobb a total of three lessons, and now he realized the man wasn’t trying to learn how to arch, but instead studied Clint’s ability with habits with the bow. _Fuck._

They both retreated from each other, getting space to recover and plan their next attack. His eyes now adjusted to the dark, Clint took in Cobb’s outfit: black armored leggings with a black jacket and hood, a gold bandolier across his chest holding silver throwing daggers, and gold trim on the hood and its goggles giving Cobb’s head the outline of an owl.

He also noted that Cobb walked without any limp from the ankle Clint knew he just broke. That was disconcerting, but he needed to focus on the danger and worry about the weird later.

So much weird.

Clint laughed, pulling his hunting knife from his ankle holster and flipped it in his hand to his preferred fighting position. “What, you couldn’t decide on a better costume than a barn owl?”

“Pathetic. Do you even know who I am?” Cobb flicked his black-gloved hands out, showing ten little claws, one for each finger.

“Who?” Clint smirked.

“I am Talon, the assassin for the Court of Owls,” Cobb—no, Talon—started to circle to the left, and Clint moved in time with him.

“Who?”

“The Court of Owls, the real power running Gotham right under Batman’s nose.”

“Who?”

Talon stopped moving, his head tilting to his head. “You know who I’m talking about.”

Clint’s smirk grew until it could split his face. “Who?”

“Are you mocking me, boy?”

“Who who.” Clint winked. Talon howled in rage and dove at Clint, but the archer was faster and used the Talon’s momentum against him. He grabbed Talon’s shoulders and pushed down, springing over the man. Before his feet even hit the floor, Clint twisted his body and aimed his knife at the spot where Talon’s shoulder met the neck—coincidently the spot where the hood and jacket overlapped.

The dagger hit, weaving between the two layers to bite into flesh. Blood spurted out and Clint tried to grapple Talon with his free arm, but couldn’t as the man turned, uncaring of the dagger slicing further into his neck, only to grab Clint’s arm and flip him to the ground.

Clint landed hard, and Talon pressed a foot against Clint’s shoulder before pulling his arm up. He screamed as the shoulder dislocated, his fingers going numb. He watched Talon pull the knife out of his own neck and toss it aside.

“This would be less painful if you stop fighting,” Talon spoke, pressing down harder on Clint’s shoulder. Clint looked up and could feel the smirk Cobb probably had under the mask. There was no way he planned to let the smug bastard win.

Taking a trick out of Bobbi’s fighting style, Clint ignored the pain as he rolled forward onto his upper back. He kicked his legs up and wrapped his calves around Talon’s neck, then pulled down to flip his attacker to the ground.

Free from Talon’s grip, Clint rolled to his feet, holding his dislocated arm with the opposite hand. Without thinking, he rushed behind the kitchen island and pulled the knives from the butcher block. When Talon tried to stand, Clint aimed knife after knife at the goggles. Each one was deflected by Talon’s sword, gaining a step with each block.

He ran out when Talon got into reach and swung the sword at Clint’s chest. He moved back and looked around, ducked the next attack, and blocked the third one with the cast iron skillet. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to stand… it just hurt to _be_ and yet Clint smirked as he pushed the blade away. “Come get it, Asshole.”

All Clint needed was to land one hard hit of the skillet to Talon’s skull and it would be over, but when he finally got the opportunity, Talon swept his legs out from under him, sending Clint back to the ground in agony.

Before he was able to move, he felt Talon straddle his back and sit on him, pinning Clint to the floor. As Clint lifted his arm, Talon stabbed into his wrist, the knife cutting through flesh and embedding into the concrete floor, pinning his only good arm down.

“You put up a good fight,” Talon praised, gripping Clint’s hair with one hand. “Your teachers excelled in training you for this moment.”

Clint groaned, his head pulled roughly to one side. “Yeah, next time I visit, I’ll be sure to tell them that Tootsie the Homicidal Owl said hi.”

“Always the comedian. Let’s fix that.”

With his head in this position, Clint knew something was going to get injected into him. It’s a classic bad guy domination play. Sure, they could inject whatever it was into his thigh or his arm, but they got off on heading straight for the artery.

Of course, he’s done it too on missions, which is why the pinch of the needle isn’t a surprise. But what followed… no one could prepare him for it.

Fire rushed through his veins and into his head. It burned so hot that the moment Clint started screaming, his throat went dry. He barely noticed Talon stepping away, and soon the entire room became too bright, even without a single light source.

The crackling started in his legs. Bones, long since repaired with pins and rods, vibrated within his skin. It felt like they were ripping themselves apart, snaping and reconnecting like he was made of Lego bricks. Then the tearing of his muscles and skin, joined by the sounds of metal hitting the floor.

The sensation continued up his body, reminding Clint of every bone he had ever broken. Hips, pelvis, back—his fall from the tightrope, beatings from his father, S.H.I.E.L.D. missions gone wrong—he relived each one until he was certain he would pass out from the agony.

But he didn’t. His shoulder popped back into place with a loud _SNAP_. The ribs Talon had just broken repaired themselves. Clint’s overstimulated consciousness understood that whatever he was injected with gave him a healing ability. He squinted at his pinned arm and grit his teeth, pulling it up. He watched the handle go through his flesh, then pulled his arm close.

He watched the hole knit itself closed, not even leaving a scar.

Then, as his nose cracked back into place, he knew what was coming. If this was healing injuries reaching back to his childhood—

His hands gripped his ears as the fire entered them simultaneously. That pain was unbearable, an injury over twenty years old trying to heal from a child’s broken connections and grow to match the ear of an adult. His fingers dug into the back and sides of his hearing aids, a desperate scream ripping from his throat as he all but begged for the pain to end. He ripped off his hearing aids, using his hands to cover his ears from the sounds that assaulted his ears. He heard the traffic outside, his own screams, his own heartbeat… the electricity running through the appliances… Talon’s heartbeat… a bat flying outside in the alley… and more.

All his senses were in overload, and his brain burned trying to process all the stimuli. He curled into a ball, tears squeezing out the side of his closed eyes, hiding his nose against his chest to focus on the lingering scent of Jason on his shirt to keep him from going insane.

The twitching in his body started to settle a few minutes later. He still felt things shifting in his body, minor wounds and old scars now tingling instead of burning, but it was mostly over and left him exhausted on the ground.

Talon moved in front of him, kneeling and taking Clint’s chin in his hand. “Open your eyes, Hawk Owl.”

Clint kept his eyes shut out of spite. “Fuck you.”

Chuckling, Talon grabbed Clint by the hair again, dragging him into a sitting position against the island. “And still fighting. Just remarkable.”

“What can I say? I’m a fucken delight.” The room smelt horrible. He could taste the blood in the air, along with the scent of their sweat, the wax from his bow, and Jason’s lingering cologne.

“Not for much longer.”

Clint felt goggles being pressed against his face. He tried to struggle, but Talon’s grip on him refused to give. “I’m going to kill you,” he growled, feeling his adrenaline starting to come back.

“No, you’re not.” Talon tightened the strap on the back of Clint’s head, then gripped Clint’s chin to keep him from breaking his head free. “Hawk is ready. Establish connection.”

“What?” Clint asked, and as he realized they might not be alone, electricity shocked his temporal lobes. He reached for the goggles, but Talon’s arms pinned his arms to the island before he could reach them,

“Hush, little owl. It’s almost over.” Talon spoke softly, trying to soothe Clint even as he went rigid from the assault on his brain. He felt himself fading out, struggling to keep a grip on reality, not wanting to give in.

 _Open your eyes._ A woman spoke in his head, her voice firm. _Open them. NOW._

Clint obeyed, and the yellow glow that overtook his vision pried his fingers away and he fell away into the void that stripped him to the core until he couldn’t remember a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate torturing my babies, and I know it feels like I'm ALWAYS torturing Clint in this series, but Ric deals with a lot of stuff on his own in the comics that run parallel to this, so I'm honestly just leveling the playing field.
> 
> This story is going to get a lot worse before it gets better. So keep your stress balls handy when reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bat Fam realizes something is wrong after a final transmission from Clint. They don't like what they find.

Jason was about to undress in his safe house when he heard the comm in his ear go live, followed by a curdling scream of someone in intense pain. It lasted ten seconds before the comm was smashed and the signal died.

“Who was that?” Jason asked. “Everyone, check-in. Hood.”

“Oracle.”

“Drake.”

“Spoiler.”

“Signal.”

“Robin.”

Without Grayson, that was the entire family, sans Bruce who didn’t have access to this specific channel. “Orphan’s not in range,” Oracle, Babs, stated. “Anyway, it was a male voice.”

“Who else has this channel?” Signal, Duke, asked.

There was a beat, a holding of breath before Damian, Tim, and Jason all realized it as one. “Clint!”

“What? Why does Clint have this channel, Drake?” Babs asked.

“In case of emergency.” Jason was already moving through the apartment, grabbing his guns and jacket. “I left him at the gym an hour ago. I’m going back.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Tim said.

“As will I,” Damian added.

“Babs, send Spoiler and Signal the file on my bust tonight. You guys take over.”

“Hood is giving us his drug bust?” Spoiler said, a certain glee in her voice that Jason and Tim both feared. He drowned out the conversation as he ran down the stairs in the building until he entered the secret sublevel that was his Batcave. He grabbed his helmet and keys and was on the way to Blüdhaven before Tim and Damian gave him their ETAs.

The gate was up with the gym door unlocked when Jason reached the warehouse. Keeping his red helmet on this time, he pulled his gun and entered the gym. All the lights were off, only the streetlights from outside guiding him around the equipment.

Half the gym equipment was gone or busted. Jason wasn’t surprised—an open door in the Haven was an invitation to steal. He closed and locked the door, hoping Ric had insurance on it all. As he cleared the room, he winced at seeing the broken bows on the ground. Clint wasn’t going to be happy when he saw that.

When he was certain the gym was safe, he tried the door to the living space. Locked. The handle looked dented—probably from being hit with the bows—but it was structurally sound. If the electricity had been cut, the door would activate a deadbolt so it couldn’t be opened from the gym side.

Jason’s boot, however, had never met a door that it couldn’t break. He kicked in the door and sent it flying across the open living space. This area was also dark, and Jason flicked the lights to no success. “Clint? Ric?” he shouted into the room, putting his back to the wall and he slid to the breaker box. Resetting the electricity, he turned all the lights back on.

The floor was a mess of knives, spilled arrows, and too much blood for Jason’s liking. As he inched further into the room, he saw the open door leading to the alley parking spots, and it confirmed to him that Clint, and whoever had hurt him, were long gone.

Jason holstered his gun, taking out his cell phone and texting Ric to call him ASAP. He then began investigating the scene. While he doesn’t boast about it—too much—he was still a Robin, and that came with months of detective training. Add on top of that a life on the streets, and Jason was an expert on breaking down the aftermath of a fight.

He noticed the single throwing knife embedded into the concrete and knelt to examine it closer. Grabbing a glove from an inner pocket of his jacket, he grabbed the handle and pulled it up. It was familiar in a way Jason couldn’t remember, and he was still staring at it when he heard Tim’s car pull into the driveway.

Tim, currently going by the stupid moniker “Drake”, and Damian as Robin rushed in, weapons drawn. They skidded to a stop at the decimated living space. “Is he here?” Tim asked.

“No.” Jason turned his head to see them through the mask. He held up the dagger. “Either of you recognize this? I know it, but I can’t place it.”

His younger brothers approached, and Damian took the knife first. “Talon,” he stated after a moment. “These are the throwing daggers of a talon.”

Tim paled. “A talon, or The Talon?”

Damian turned the knife in his hand. “This is Cobb’s.”

“Shit,” Jason muttered, standing up. “So either Cobb’s kidnapped Clint after a fight…” He stopped himself, taking a moment to breathe. This is why he avoided relationships. Their lives always put people in danger. With Clint, it was a two-sided knife.

“Or they killed him and removed the body,” Damian growled. “He’s going after Grayson.”

“It may not just be about Dick.” Tim took the knife from Damian and held it up, looking at the end with the owl face. “There’s flesh on this. Not skin though… muscle.”

“Which is probably Clint’s.” Jason walked over to the fuse box. He took his glove off and pulled the scanner up. “The cave’s down here.”

“I want to run some tests. There’s something unusual about this.”

Tim was already running down the stairs. Damian made to follow, then noticed a crushed purple device against the kitchen island. He picked it up, then showed Jason. “His hearing aids.”

“So they torture and deafen him.” Jason took his helmet off and rubbed at the grease around his eyes. “I’m going to fucking kill them.”

“I will help you.” Damian took his mask and cape off, leaving them folded on the island before going to close the back door. “One of us should go check on Richard. Any time they come after us, he is their endgame.”

Jason was cataloging all the blood on the floor and walls. “I texted him to call me. He was going to see his girlfriend.”

“A phone call would verify his safety and warn him.” Damian pointed out.

“Uh guys, you might wanna see this,” Tim’s voice drifted up from the cave. Damian and Jason exchanged glances, then started down the stairs into the basement cave.

Tim was in his chair, fingers dancing over multiple keyboards. On the screen were six sets of DNA results. “Whatcha got, Timbo?”

“Okay, so on the left, we have DNA samples from William Cobb, Lincoln March, and a random Talon from that night of owls a few years back.” Tim stood up and pointed at each one. “Each of them has an exact thirty percent match to one another. Batman believes that it comes from the changes someone goes through to become a talon. The stuff that makes them heal, not die, susceptible to cold, even down to the black veins and gold eyes.”

Damian stood silent, listening as his eyes focused on the screen. Jason nodded, not sure where Tim was going but patient to find out. “Go on.”

“Alright, now over here, I’ve got three samples that were in this computer with Clint’s name on them. One I think has him infected with the fear toxin.”

“Yeah, I took that one. He was at ground zero when a fear bomb went off.”

Tim nodded. “Okay, good. The second one was taken a few days later. I guess to make sure the toxin was out of his system?”

“Standard protocol,” Damian said, impatient. “Get to the point, Drake.”

“The point is that the sample from the muscle chunk? It’s only an eighty-five percent match to Clint.” Tim made the third and last DNA box enlarge to project side by side. “Certain DNA markers are changing, and they are falling in line with the changes a talon goes through.”

Jason’s eyes widened. “Are you saying that they turned Clint into a fucking Talon?”

“That’s what the results show.” Tim looked at the computer, then back up at Jason. “Listen, Jay, I know you two have been hanging out a lot… but Batman’s tried everything to undo a talon transformation, just in case they got to Dick. There’s no way to reverse this.”

“Drake’s correct. The ones Father tried to help died and their bodies melted away.” Damian’s fists were closed tight.

“I don’t give a damn what’s happened before. This is Clint! He came here to help us, and we can’t just let him go without a fight!” Jason felt the pit madness stir inside of him as he started to hyperventilate.

Tim stood in front of him, grabbing Jason’s shoulders. “Jay, deep breaths. Focus. You can’t help him if you lose yourself right now.”

“We’re not going to kill him,” Jason growled.

Damian huffed, a smirk showing for a split-second. “I think that is the first time I’ve heard you advocate not killing someone, Todd.”

Tim shot Damian a look before refocusing on his older brother. “Of course, we’re not going to kill him. We’re going to rescue him, see how far they progressed on him, and figure out how to help him not become an assassin for the court. We never gave up on you, and we won’t on him either.”

Jason nodded, taking a few deep breaths. He willed himself to calm his mind and push the rage back down. “We’ll find him,” he said once he was under control. “And if we can’t, we can see if S.H.I.E.L.D. has the resources to.”

“… I’ve got an idea.” Tim pushed away from Jason and pulled up Clint’s scans done after the fear toxin. He leaned in close, his fingers moving and eyes flicking faster than Jason could keep up with.

“What are you looking for?”

“You did a full body scan of Clint last time, right?” Tim didn’t look back at Jason or Damian as he spoke. “Yeah, you did. Okay, that scan picks up on tracking devices automatically, whether we’re looking for them or not.”

Jason crossed his arms, recalling that afternoon in his mind. “Clint had two. One of them was S.H.I.E.L.D., and he didn’t recognize the other. He didn’t even know it was there.”

“Backup tracker,” Damian deduced. “He’s a black ops agent, right? If captured, they’d cut out the first one, so having a second one would ensure that he could be retrieved.”

Jason pointed at the dark spot behind Clint’s left rib. “That’s the main one.”

Tim zoomed in on that part of the scan and rotated the image until he could make out the writing. Another screen opened next to it, and Tim started typing in code. “Alright, now I’ll just run this through the same sequence I did to get his hearing aid’s frequency and…”

Lines of code scrolled down the screen, and then a third window popped up. It was a map of Blüdhaven and it pinpointed a moving target heading. “Got him,” Tim stated with a grin.

“We can assume that Talon will be with him,” Damian said. “If Clint is still transitioning, he’s liable to still have free will. Cobb will need to ensure Clint doesn’t escape.”

Jason leaned over Tim’s shoulder. “Can you pull up Ric’s tracker so we can see where they are in relation to each other?”

“Sure.” Tim typed in the instructions, then narrowed his eyes. “That can’t be right.”

“What?” Jason asked.

Tim’s typing sped up, then he stopped, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Dick… Ric doesn’t have an active tracker.”

“Maybe Bruce had it swapped out after his operation?” Jason shrugged. “Try a ping on all bat trackers. The three of us are here, the rest are in Gotham. Any additional tracker in this area would be Ric.”

“Okay. Here goes.”

Quickly typing in the new command, Tim watched as three dots appeared on the screen, all centered over the warehouse and gym. They scanned the city, but nothing popped up to represent Ric’s movement in the city. “No fourth dot,” Tim stated.

“That is incorrect,” Damian tutted, pointing at the screen. “There’s your fourth.”

The spot Damian pointed at was in the moving dot that represented Clint’s S.H.I.E.L.D. tracker. Now two dots—purple and red—overlayed each other.

“They already have Ric,” Jason said.

“Maybe not…” Tim focused the screen on the moving dot and switched it to a satellite view. He found the van Clint was in and zoomed in again to show the dimensions of the van, then flipped to infrared vision. Two cold signatures and one warm—not hot—signature were inside.

Both purple and red dot lay on the cooling person.

“Why does Clint have a bat tracker?” Tim asked, looking up at Jason.

Jason shrugged. “No idea.”

“We can discuss that later. We need to rescue Barton before his transformation is complete and before Talon gets his hands on Grayson.”

“Okay, let’s split up. Tim, stay at the computer and keep a real-time tracking on Clint,” Jason went to the gadget cabinet and started opening drawers. “The brat and I will hunt them down.” He found extra grapple wire and tucked it into his jacket just in case, then grabbed a handful of wingdings and smoke pellets, adding them to belt pouches.

“They’ve stopped,” Tim said. “Pulling up the address now.”

Jason looked over and swore. “That’s the Prodigal Bar. That’s where Ric and Bea probably are.” He tapped Damian on the shoulder and started for the stairs.

“Change your comm frequency to six-two-oh,” Tim shouted at them.

Damian changed his mask frequency and put it back on. “Here.”

Jason grabbed his helmet and continued to the door, Damian on his heels. Once the helmet frequency was set, he slid it on. “I’m putting the warehouse in lockdown,” Jason told Tim. “You know how to deactivate it?”

“Of course. I helped design the security for this place.”

“Good. Let us know if there’s movement.” Jason pressed his fingers on the biometric pads hidden behind a water pipe. Instantly, metal doors slid down as matching shutters slid over the windows and skylight. He then grabbed the bottom rung of the fire escape ladder and pulled it down. “It’s a ten-minute run by rooftop. Let’s go, Robin.”

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, that's where we start, and it's going to go downhill FAST. Grab your stress balls, folks, because there are so many feels on their way and the Bat Bros will never be the same.


End file.
